


tango for three

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [51]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, Gen, Masquerade Ball Au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: Shinsuke smiles. The curve of his mouth peeks out from behind his cracked half-mask in plaster white. He raises his glass to wet his lips, runs his tongue lightly across them.“Ooh,” laughs the first twin. “Is that areaction? You’re not as cold as they say.”





	tango for three

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 7: Free For All | originally posted [here](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/25713.html?thread=16244593#cmt16244593)

The wine he’s just downed is intoxicating, but it’s the violin that’s getting under his skin.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” someone whispers in Shinsuke’s ear, from where he’s standing by a curtain, velvet red rustling against his palm; he turns to see a figure in a fox mask and tuxedo sweep by him on the way to the punch table, leaving only a smile like fizzing champagne in his wake.

Shinsuke looks away with a pointed tilt of his head, tips his chin towards the dance floor.

There he is. The twin to his interloper, a man in an identical mask leading a slow foxtrot. He’s just out of the light, beyond the reach of the glittering chandeliers. His footsteps trace a sure path across the dappled shadows. He never says a word to his partner, only bows at the conclusion of the dance, kisses her gloved hand like a gentleman and makes his way back to the sidelines.

“I hope you don’t mind,” says the first twin, materialising by Shinsuke’s side again, two glasses in hand. He hands one to Shinsuke. “I swear I don’t make a habit of this.”

“Of what?” asks the second twin, appearing just in time to swipe the second wine glass.

“Why, talking to strangers, of course. Hello, my thieving brother.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

Shinsuke smiles. The curve of his mouth peeks out from behind his cracked half-mask in plaster white. He raises his glass to wet his lips, runs his tongue lightly across them.

“Ooh,” laughs the first twin. “Is that a _reaction_? You’re not as cold as they say.”

The second twin studies him from the corner of his eye, keeps his silence for now. In his hand, the surface of the wine is a dark mirror, still and faultless. _Such a steady hand,_ thinks Shinsuke.

“And how cold do they say I am?” he asks.

“Like _ice_ ,” says the first twin, his voice whisper-bright, and leans close. His fingertips are warm as they brush Shinsuke’s exposed cheek, find the corner of his lips.

“I think you’ll find I’ve been woefully slandered,” Shinsuke says.

The second twin lets out a low hum of amusement. “I think you’ll find my brother’s a master of woeful slander.”

“ _So_ uncharitable! Here I am trying to set Kita-san’s reputation right! Look how warm he is!”

And the first twin grabs hold of Shinsuke’s hand, brings it to clasp his brother’s free one; if Shinsuke’s supposedly _ice-cold_ , he can’t help recalling the rumours that’ve reached his ears about this Miya twin. He is—no perfect winter, but the kind of burn that freezes from within, that melts into an ocean.

A minor chord rings out, hangs in the air like a beautiful fissure. As one, the twins turn to look at the dance floor, and a butler comes round to collect Shinsuke’s glass.

“ _Well_. Which one of us will you dance with, Kita-san?” asks the first twin. If masks could move, thinks Shinsuke, his eyebrows would be arched now, his smirk etched like an old scar into his face.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to dance,” the second twin protests, as he starts to extract his hand from Shinsuke’s, but Shinsuke hangs on, reaches out.

_Osamu,_ he murmurs, a command, and then, as he catches the first twin by the wrist, _Atsumu_.

Atsumu (for all of his boldness, the show he puts on) is surprisingly gentle to the touch, more hesitant to wrap his fingers round Shinsuke’s than Osamu is, and Shinsuke holds them both like his victory.

“Maybe he wants to have it all,” he says, leading the way.


End file.
